


Everything and Nothing

by MyNightmaresAreMyDaydreams



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Character Reflection, Character Study, Drabble, Gen, Help, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Nightmares, Tony Stark Has Self-Esteem Issues, Tony Stark Has Trust Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Still Has Arc Reactor, Tony Stark-centric, What am I doing, idk - Freeform, it's short, prose, very short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 13:32:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17643767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyNightmaresAreMyDaydreams/pseuds/MyNightmaresAreMyDaydreams
Summary: A character study of Tony Stark....He is pride and he is the downfall. He is guns and gunshot wounds. He is bullets and a shield. He is the bully and the victim, the saviour and the damned. He is both the benediction and the curse.





	Everything and Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Umm. Hi. Sorry. It's been a while. My other stories just aren't coming. I know this is different. I don't even know what I'm doing. I'm sorry. Forgive me.
> 
> Disclaimer: The words and ideas are mine. Everything else, well. Rights to their respective owners

He closes his eyes, leans his head against the cold metal of his helmet, and drops his scarred hands to his side.

Some days, he's not even sure why he does this.

He knows who he is.

He is nothing that matters.

He is circuits and electricity and a glowing blue circle of thing-that-shouldn’t-exist. He is oil and grease and too-strong coffee and bags beneath the eyes. He is soldering burns and spitting wires and sleepless nights and hands that yearn to make and make and always destroy.

He is smiles, fake and sweet. He is a don’t-know-their-name partner in clean white sheets. He is a vapid speech, a mindless being made of money and cocky smirks. He is white shirts and bespoke suits and hello-goodbye-s and a spill of blood—tinged money on a gambling table.

He is nightmares, cold and hot and water in his lungs and electricity in his heart. He is too many glasses of strong, burning alcohol. He is a wraith searching for his next hit of oblivion. He is a creature made of his past trying to outrun it, trying to leave it all behind. He is lost. He is loss.

He is red. He is red and gold for his blood and his money. He is as black as his heart, even though he wishes he could tell himself it was gold. He is cold hands and dead friends. He is shuddering awake with tear stains on his face and blunt nails cutting crescents into his shattered skin.

He is pride and he is the downfall. He is guns and gunshot wounds. He is bullets and a shield. He is the bully and the victim, the saviour and the damned. He is both the benediction and the curse.

He is shattering, and he is shattered.

He is whole, and he is broken beyond repair.

He is an infinite universe of splintered possibilities, and he is nebulae of new dreams.

He is everything, and he is nothing.

Nothing that matters, anyway.

He opens his eyes, and tries to make a difference.


End file.
